Phantom of the Opera: Rewritten In Rhyme
by Weasel of the Opera
Summary: The way Shakespeare would do it. Sort of. Leroux based.
1. The Gentleman In Evening Wear

1.

**2nd draft**

_Sorelli, prima ballerina of the Paris Opera, is admiring herself in her dressing-room mirror when half a dozen screaming ballet girls rush in._

JAMMES

We saw the Ghost!

LOUISE

I thought us toast.

MEG

We were, almost.

JAMMES

If we hadn't fled fast,

our lives would have been past.

PAULETTE

He wasn't even handsome.

Not the kind I fantasized

would hold me for ransom

or make me compromised.

JAMMES

Only air fills your head

when we could have been dead.

SORELLI

It's all but scary

when you boast

you saw your imaginary

Opera Ghost.

... Did the Ghost you really see?

JAMMES

As plainly as you now see me!

LOUISE

We were backstage, and then, I swear,

a figure formed out of thin air.

But though he was cutthroaty,

he wasn't white or floaty.

He looked a gent in fancy dress,

a gent bent on torment,

but a gent nonetheless.

SORELLI

There are many of those,

wearing fine clothes,

many of whom

you can't presume

are dead.

JANELLE

His dressing was not why we fled.

We're stressing because of his head.

JAMMES

It looked like death.

LOUISE

He had no nose to draw in breath.

JANELLE

The skin was thin,

I saw each vein.

JAMMES

He grinned a grin

that wasn't sane.

PAULETTE

His eyes were flames.

SORELLI

What crazy claims.

LOUISE

The honest Joseph Buquet, master of the flies,

has seen the Ghost with his own eyes

and it looked most as he did say—

a head made up of but decay,

rotting away with every day.

JAMMES

He said the Ghost has a lasso

that he will use to strangle you.

LOUISE

I've heard a noise behind the door.

MEG

The thrill we find in this uproar

the Ghost abhors.

He's come to kill the ballet corps!

_The girls shrink away from the door; Sorelli bravely approaches it, wielding a hairbrush._

JANELLE

Sorelli, if you have a wit,

I pray to you, don't open it.

_Sorelli opens the door._

SORRELI

Hello, is there anyone there?

Reveal yourself, Ghost, if you dare.

MEG

What are you, thick?

Do close it, quick!

_Sorelli closes the door._

SORRELI

Oh, it's silly to be chilly.

Your stories are not true.

We're too old to

believe in them really.

_Enter Lucille, another ballet girl._

LUCILLE

I've ghastly news.

LOUISE

They're banning booze?

LUCILLE

The honest Joseph Buquet, master of the flies,

has suddenly met his demise.

In the cellars he died,

hung by a lasso.

They say it's suicide,

but I don't think it's true!

MEG

The Ghost has killed Buquet!

No, mother said I'd pay

for any gossip of the Ghost,

and never to my knowledge boast.

JAMMES

You have knowledge of the eerie,

Meg Giry?

LOUISE

Oh, tell us! Our theory

has gotten so dreary.

MEG

_with growing enthusiasm from the girls' reactions_

Since it makes you cheery,

maybe mother wouldn't spaz

if I just told you the Ghost has

a reign of fear o'er the managers here.

Only fools would flout his rules,

cause he's willing to do killing.

Secrets I'm not spilling

when I say he finds it thrilling.

And so, each show,

a share of what the opera's grossed

is handed over to the Ghost.

But money is not all he wants;

he has a private box he haunts!

Yes, he suggested they grant him Box Five

if the managers had any wish to survive.

And on the occasion

he had an invasion,

the intruders heard a voice

melodic and euphonic.

But it had no body,

and its words were quite demonic:

He spoke he'd choke the bloke

who dared remain in his domain

because you'd have to be insane

to sit in the box of the Ghost.

Being right in the head, they fled.

but to this day no one will tread

inside Box Five

if they've got drive

to stay alive.

But what am I saying?

Why, I should be praying

the Ghost won't kill me as Buquet,

since all his secrets I've given away.

JAMMES

Yes, Buquet knew too much of the phantom

and so the Ghost had to plant 'im

in his grave!

SORELLI

But we mustn't speak a word

of what's occurred

to anyone.

JAMMES

Well, that's no fun.

SORELLI

Tonight the managers retire,

and I desire

to not ruin their last night

with our foolish fright.

After the gala performance

in which we all dance

to celebrate the end of their careers,

they deserve us to shed

at least a few tears

when we say farewell,

and not out of fears

at tales of the Ghost which we shall not tell.

That is the Parisian way:

pretend we don't keep death at bay.


	2. Good Show, Good Show

2.

**2nd draft**

_The dinner after the gala performance, held to say farewell to retiring managers Poligny and Debienne. Sorelli heads the crowd with her suitor Phillipe._

PHILLIPE

Gossipy dancers

and noble romancers

are okay day to day,

but sometimes I love to get away.

I love the opera!

It's exciting,

all the fighting,

righteous duelers

killing rulers,

bloody deaths

and arias on dying breaths,

heartbroken brides

and suicides,

I love the opera!

I love opera ordinarily,

but tonight particularily

I'd say the show

did blow me away.

Must have been that singer,

Christine Daae.

SORELLI

Her voice used to sound

like a rusty hinge.

She sang, all around,

we'd inwardly cringe.

PHILLIPE

Why would they give Christine the lead

if they thought her voice made ears bleed?

SORELLI

It's strange, as if it were arranged.

Carlotta, the prima,

sang like she had emphysema.

When she starting wheezing,

the music wasn't pleasing.

She rushed off in shame,

but then Christine came

and broke into a song

that showed us all wrong

in thinking she was lame.

Somehow she knew

the part by heart.

So God save her soul,

they gave her the role.

PHILLIPE

I agree it's fishy,

but the dame was dishy,

so I don't give a damn.

SORELLI

But I confess,

I am impressed

at her progress.

What great teacher taught her

so none has forgot her?

_Enter Raoul, Phillipe's brother._

RAOUL

All talking of Christine Daae?

Or gawking at that great display?

PHILLIPE

Brother,

is she none other

than your childhood sweetheart long ago?

RAOUL

Why, yes! I thought I'd say hello—

SORELLI

She fainted after the show.

You might want to wait

'til she sits up straight

before you get acquainted.

RAOUL

I'm the beau of this show,

I am noble, true and clever.

I'll wait, but I won't stray,

I'll wait forever and a day.

_A toast to the managers is called. Sorelli stands on the rostrum, with the retiring managers Poligny and Debienne at her side._

SORELLI

I call a toast

to the men in the post

of manager.

While they were in charge,

the Ghost was at large,

but in their control,

the death toll dropped,

and less shows flopped

in whole.

By the truckload

they used to die,

and then you showed,

but now it's bye.

Our death rate

may escalate,

but you deserve your lives.

_Everyone applauds, truly touched. Poligny and Debienne step up for a word._

POLIGNY

Managing the Opera is a noble career,

but now is the time to end it, we fear.

DEBIENNE

We've had it with this wretched place—

That Ghost invades our personal space.

_Nervous laughter. Poligny hurriedly gestures to the new managers, Richard and Moncharmin._

POLIGNY

These gents will take the Opera off our hands.

DEBIENNE

They claim they'll handle its demands.

POLIGNY

Messieurs Richard and Moncharmin!

Come now, there's no harm in

letting us applaud you.

_Richard and Moncharmin wave. The crowd applauds and returns to its chatter._

MONCHARMIN

We do not get to make a speech?

RICHARD

What was it that you wished to preach?

MONCHARMIN

It's the principle of the thing.

RICHARD

Moncharmin, do not be a ding-a-ling.

_Poligny grabs the new managers and leads them to the side._

POLIGNY

Gents, we must converse

before we must disperse.

Please now, don't be daunted,

but this opera's haunted.

RICHARD

Haunted? Gentlemen, you jest!

DEBIENNE

I must protest,

we are possessed

by a Ghost of a most

vicious nature.

RICHARD

How merry you are!

MONCHARMIN

How utterly full of sherry you are!

DEBIENNE

I'm sober cold,

so hear what you're told.

The Ghost has rules

that only fools

would flout.

We may seem brainless,

but it will be painless

if you don't doubt

what we speak about.

POLIGNY

First and worst:

A share of what the opera's grossed

must be handed to the Ghost.

RICHARD

A Ghost who wants money?

Why men, you're too funny.

POLIGNY

This is no joke, no silly prank,

and my comrades, to be frank,

I don't advise resistance

to the Opera Ghost's existence.

DEBIENNE

Along with cash, the Ghost demands

the private Box Five in his hands.

MONCHARMIN

Why should we believe you?

POLIGNY

When we leave you,

you will.

He will threaten

to kill.

It's getting old,

but we're still in his hold,

so there must be something to it.

DEBIENNE

In a note he'll send details.

At first we laughed these letters off,

but do not at your betters scoff,

for disaster will prevail.

_Poligny and Debienne grab suitcases from under the table and dash off._

RICHARD

That's serious joking.

MONCHARMIN

What crack were they smoking?

_Meanwhile, Raoul has embarked on a search for Christine. He corners the opera's box-keeper, Mme. Giry._

RAOUL

Pardon—do you work here?

MME. GIRY

Oh, I go berserk here.

I'm the box-keeper,

the on-the-job sleeper,

and my pay could be no cheaper.

Still I'd like to pull a Reaper

on the managers for leaving.

The new chaps won't believe in

the tales I tell

the wails I yell

of a Ghost who dwells—

RAOUL

I just wanted to know:

where did Miss Daae go

at the end of the show?

MME. GIRY

Any more wooers

I'll throw down the sewers!

RAOUL

As the beau of this show,

I am gallant

and I've talent

for making women swoon,

but I'm no lovesick loon.

I used to know Christine

before her opera scene.

I'm not lying!

I knew her father

when he was dying.

It was a bother,

all of that crying.

I remember it quite clearly,

dearly and sincerely.

MME. GIRY

Even if you're not a suitor,

which I think you are,

she is meeting with the tutor

who made her a star.

RAOUL

_aside_

Would that I could reach her!

_casually to Mme. Giry_

Tell me, is this teacher

of the male variety?

MME. GIRY

Yes, but do not question Christine's propriety.

RAOUL

_aside_

Still my heart does fill with anxiety.

MME. GIRY

He's not a man of society.

Once a recluse,

he made Christine his muse.

RAOUL

A recluse that fond

of a beautiful blonde?

I find that suspicious,

_aside_

and for my love not auspicious.

_to Mme. Giry, confidentially_

I think that I should check on them.

MME. GIRY

Jealousy isn't good looking,

You get this face

like you smell a trace

of cauliflower cooking.

Why don't you sit down, have a drink,

and try not any thoughts to think?

RAOUL

You truly trust her with this obvious madman?

It's clear to me he has an evil plan.

MME. GIRY

If I allow you a secret to own,

will you at long last leave me alone?

RAOUL

If this man it tells of.

MME. GIRY

He is no man, but an Angel above—

an Angel of Music from her dead dad.

I surmise from the size

of your bugged-out eyes

that you must think me mad,

but you too would believe

Angels weren't just for the naive

if you heard his song!

In heaven it belongs,

it's melodic and euphonic,

it could never be demonic.

I've never seen his face,

and neither has she,

but we both agree,

we'd wed him on the spot,

with that voice he must be "hot."

_She nudges Raoul, grinning, but he moves away._

RAOUL

The Angel of Music was naught but a story

Christine's father told her when she dreamt of glory.

It seems to me you've been into the wine.

MME. GIRY

Your request to see Christine I decline.

RAOUL

I shall then get directions from one with less spine.


End file.
